Page 11 of Patrick’s Seduction (Scanguards Vampires #19)

11

P atrick pulled his car to the curb, parking it in the red zone in front of the hospital. He jumped out, his heart racing, his entire body coiled in worry. Was Fallon alright? How bad were her injuries?

Clicking the car’s remote to lock it, he was already racing toward the hospital main entrance, when a voice stopped him.

“Hey, you can’t park there!” The police officer gave him a stern look.

The reprimand pearled off him like water off a Teflon pan. “Run my license plate, and you’ll find out that I can.”

After all, all Scanguards-owned vehicles had the same parking privileges as police cars, an arrangement they had reached with the police chief who knew of the existence of vampires and had been keeping their secrets for decades.

Inside the hospital it was busy, which wasn’t unusual for mid-mornings. Patrick rushed toward the emergency room. It was hectic, with most of the treatment areas occupied by patients, doctors, and nurses attending to them. He swept his gaze through the large room, when the curtain to one of the treatment bays was shoved aside by a nurse, and he got a peek at the patient behind it: Fallon.

He hurried to it and entered. “Fallon!”

He was at her side, before she could even say a single word.

“Patrick…” She attempted a smile, but he could see that she was in pain.

There was a band-aid on her temple, and she had cuts and bruises on her arms, but she was propped up on the gurney, sitting almost upright, wearing a clean T-shirt and baggy jogging pants. He approached, wanting to take her into his arms to assure himself that she was alright, but of course, he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t her boyfriend or her lover, and he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

“What happened?” he asked instead, his gaze ping-ponging between her and the nurse.

The nurse, a feisty-looking woman in her fifties, put a reassuring hand on Fallon’s hand. “Her colleagues found her in the lab this morning. One of the shelving units fell on her. Luckily, her injuries are only superficial.” She nodded at Fallon. “The doctor wants you to stay here today for observation, just in case you have a concussion.”

“But I already told him I’m fine,” Fallon protested.

Patrick looked at the nurse, glancing at the embroidered name on her scrubs. “Nurse Millie, why don’t I speak to Fallon? Maybe I can get her to change her mind.”

Nurse Millie sighed. “Well, good luck, young man. She’s a stubborn one.” She turned to the curtain, pulling it aside so she could slip out.

“I heard that,” Fallon grumbled under her breath.

Patrick rested his hip against the hospital bed and took Fallon’s hand. Her skin felt warm and the contact sent a pleasant shiver through his body, but he tried not to show what the touch did to him.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I was attacked,” Fallon said, then sniffled.

Patrick’s heart raced. “Where? How? When?”

“I was called into the lab at around 2a.m. And when I—”

“Who called you into the lab in the middle of the night?” Patrick shook his head, incredulous that Fallon would leave the safety of her home during the night after everything she’d told him about Cameron. “Why would you—”

“Nobody called me, I mean, an alarm went off.” A whiff of impatience and annoyance colored her words.

“An alarm?”

“Yes, one of the refrigerators with the tissue samples for my research had a large temperature fluctuation. So, I got the alert on my cell phone. It happens when the power goes out.”

Her words made him feel a little bit calmer. “And was that it? The power was out?”

She shook her head. “No, though the lights in the lab weren’t working, but the fridges and freezers were humming. But when I saw the fridge, I noticed that the door was open. That’s why the temperature was rising.”

“Why would a fridge door suddenly open in the middle of the night?”

That was more than just a little suspicious; it sounded like a setup. A trap for her to show up at the lab in the middle of the night—where nobody could protect her.

“I don’t know. I thought maybe there was a little earthquake, and something moved inside the fridge and pushed against the door. But everything looked fine. So, I closed the door.”

She swallowed hard.

“Go on,” he murmured, keeping his voice calm while brushing his thumb over the back of her hand in reassurance. “What happened then?”

“I think somebody was there, in the lab.”

His pulse kicked up a notch. “Who?”

Fallon shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything after closing the fridge door. I just have that feeling that somebody was there and hurt me.” She rubbed her left shoulder, her hand visibly trembling. “My colleagues found me when they showed up for work at seven-thirty. One of the shelving units was lying across my body as if it had fallen on me. But I don’t remember it falling.”

Her breathing accelerated as if somebody was chasing her, and there was no doubt in his mind that Fallon was scared.

“Fallon,” he said calmly, even though he wasn’t calm inside, “take a breath.”

He watched her forcing herself to inhale and exhale slowly.

“Tell me everything you can remember.”

A tear freed itself from her eye and made its way down one cheek. He resisted the temptation to wipe it off with his finger. As a stranger, he had no right to touch her so intimately. He was already crossing the line by holding her hand.

“I just know that I used my cell phone light because the lights in the lab were off. I flicked the switch after letting myself in, but nothing happened. But when I regained consciousness when my colleagues showed up for work, the lights worked again.”

Patrick absorbed the information. Any janitor or other employee could have tampered with the fuse box. It was a simple thing to do: flip a fuse to off , and then switch it back to on later. As long as somebody could pick the lock to the electrical closet in the building’s corridor, it would be an easy thing to do. But why?

“You said you received an alert on your cell phone about the refrigerator’s temperature rising. Who knows about this alert?”

She shrugged. “Anybody working in my lab for sure.”

“So, they would know that you’d come running to check on it, if you got an alert, right?”

“Yes. I can’t just let the tissue samples spoil. It would set my research back by months.”

“Is it possible that you slipped in the dark? I mean, you only had your cell phone light.”

“No!” A hurt expression spread over her face. She pointed her finger to the area beyond the curtain. “You believe them? That the shelving unit fell on me?”

Again, she rubbed her shoulder. Patrick’s gaze was drawn to it, but before he could ask her about it, she continued, “You believe that I slipped? I didn’t slip. Somebody attacked me.”

“I believe you, Fallon,” he assured her, and though she couldn’t provide any more information about it, he sensed that her fear was real. “I’m just trying to figure out what happened.” He already had a suspicion, and short of a staff member of her lab playing a cruel trick on her, there was only one other person who was capable of such a deed.

“Did Cameron know of the alert you’d get if a fridge door is left open?”

Fallon shivered visibly, nodding. “He was at my place one evening when I got an alert. And he was annoyed that I would interrupt our evening to rush to my lab to check on it.” She met his eyes. “He knows I would come to the lab no matter what.”

He’d suspected as much. But why attack Fallon? What would he gain by that? What would be the purpose of it? By attacking her, Cameron was all but assured that she’d never get back together with him.

“And the injuries?” Patrick asked, running his eyes over the exposed parts of Fallon’s body, her face, neck, and arms. “Nothing major?”

“Cuts and bruises. There was broken glass on the floor when they found me. But I don’t remember any glass breaking.”

“Has somebody already cleaned up the area where it happened?”

“I don’t know. I assume so. I mean they had to, or they’d be stepping on glass, hurting themselves.”

That was to be expected, but maybe it was best to check it out anyway. “Alright. How’s your head? Any pain? The nurse said it’s possible that you have a concussion.”

She shook her head but stopped immediately as if the motion was causing her pain. “No, she didn’t say that. She said that the doctor wants to keep me here for observation— in case I have a concussion. But I don’t wanna stay.”

“Are you sure?”

Fallon sat up straight and leaned in, lowering her voice. “I don’t feel safe here. If somebody got into my lab to attack me there, it’s gonna be even easier in a hospital room. They’re not locked. Anybody can just walk in there.”

Patrick nodded quickly. He had expected as much. “Good, I’ll take you home. But before that, I’d like to see your lab. You need to show me where it happened.”

It took a few minutes until Fallon had signed all the paperwork, confirming that she was leaving the hospital against the doctor’s orders. The nurse handed her antibiotics and painkillers, demanding that Fallon take the antibiotics because there was a chance that she could get an infection caused by whatever had fallen on her. After all, in any lab all kinds of bacteria could be present that could harm a human. Infections contracted in hospitals could become life-threatening. But Patrick already had a plan of how to prevent anything serious from developing. He just needed to execute his plan covertly so that Fallon didn’t stumble on his secret.

Medications in hand, they made their way to her lab on the 9 th floor of the Medical Sciences Building. As they entered, Fallon’s colleagues greeted her with questions. They all appeared concerned about her well-being, and Patrick didn’t notice anyone feigning their well-wishes.

“This is where they found me,” Fallon said with her arm stretched out toward one corner of the large space. “The refrigerators are back there.”

Patrick walked to the area and looked around. There were plenty of supply closets and shelves where somebody could easily hide in order not to be seen immediately. Even though Fallon had had her cell phone light, the beam would have only illuminated a small part of the room as she crossed it to reach the refrigerator in question.

There wasn’t much else to glean. “Alright. I’ve seen what I needed to see. I’ll take you home.”

She hesitated, and he half expected her to say that she wanted to stay and work, but it appeared that even Fallon knew that after being attacked in her own lab, it was best not to stay here. At least not today.

“Alright.”

In the car during the ride to her flat, Fallon was quiet, and Patrick used the time to go over everything she’d told him about the attack. There was no doubt in his mind that somebody had set a trap for her to come to the lab where nobody would hear her and come to her aid. He was also pretty certain that Cameron was behind this. But the rest? The attack itself made no sense if Cameron was the one who’d attacked her. Tricking her to come to the lab in the middle of the night, yes, that looked like a desperate move by her ex to be able to talk to her face-to-face, knowing that she wouldn’t invite him into her flat.

But why attack her? There had to be a good reason. Had they argued, and things had gotten out of hand? Or had Fallon tried to flee when she’d realized that Cameron was waiting for her, and had tripped during her escape? It would account for her injuries. But what didn’t make sense was her memory loss. What had caused it?

Did she have a concussion, and that was the reason for her not remembering the event? It would explain her memory loss at least temporarily. But according to the nurse, the doctor hadn’t specifically diagnosed her as having a concussion. So why didn’t she remember the attack? Or did she simply not want to tell anybody about it? He hated himself for thinking this, but he didn’t know Fallon well enough to know what was going on inside her. And he hadn’t had sufficient time to make himself a good picture of Cameron Gallagher, and what he was capable of.

He would work on that shortly, but first, he had to make sure that Fallon would heal quickly. There was no need for her to feel any more pain than necessary. He already knew how to take care of that.

When they entered Fallon’s flat, Patrick closed the door firmly behind them and flipped the deadbolt.

“You should take your medication,” he suggested.

“You’re right. I’ll get something to swallow them with.” She already made a step toward the kitchen, when he stopped her.

He pointed to the couch. “You sit and rest. I’ll get you a glass of something so you can swallow the pills.”

“You don’t have to. I’m feeling fine,” she protested.

“Let me just do this for you, okay?” he asked softly.

She relented and walked toward the sofa, while Patrick marched into the kitchen. It was small, and not difficult to navigate. Glasses sat on an open shelf over the sink. He took one and opened the refrigerator. Inside it, he perused the drinks. Since she couldn’t very well down the pills with a glass of wine, he chose the next best option, a liquid that would hide what he had to put into it. He poured apple juice into the glass, while he kept the fridge door open so his next action was hidden from Fallon, should she look over her shoulder into the kitchen. He set the glass on a shelf, willed his fingers to turn into claws, and pricked the soft pad of his thumb with it. He held the bleeding thumb over the glass to allow the blood to mix with the apple juice. The juice became a tiny little bit darker from the blood, but Fallon wouldn’t notice it. When he was done, he licked his thumb, closing the tiny wound with his saliva.

His vampire blood would help her heal much faster and eliminate the need for pain medication. It was the least he could do. The thought of Fallon drinking his blood excited him, but he tried to push that thought from his mind. Just as he ignored the next thought that emerged: in a human, vampire blood acted as an aphrodisiac.